Hold Onto the World, It Keeps Spinning
by SailorSilvanesti
Summary: Bones is not exactly impressed with how Jim handles 'diplomatic relations' with some Klingons, considering his Captain is now hanging onto the planet like his life depends upon it... why is this his life? [AU, Spirk]


**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, any of the series, seasons or associated characters... to assume I do, would be most illogical...**

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So, long story short, someone posted a short:

. . . . . . . . .

_"I'm not gonna make it, Bones."_

_"Like hell you aren't."_

_"You have to- to get back to the ship. Tell them…tell them I'm sorry."_

.

_[By:_** hyperchef**_ of Tumblr]_

_. . . . . . . . . ._

And suddenly... my imagination did a thing.

So... I hope you like it.

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**~*Hold Onto the World, It Keeps Spinning*~**

**~)0(~**

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.

With a long-suffering sigh, the Doctor rolled his eyes wearily and made a grab for Jim's uniform collar.

.

"Get up you idiot, I TOLD you not to challenge Klingons to a drinking competition, but you did it anyway... so suffer. Now up and at 'em, we have a ship to get back to, and don't think for one second you can use those sad puppy-dog eyes to con a hangover cure-all hypospray out of me... you hear?"

A sad, muted whine came from the Captain where he lay sprawled on the red dirt covering the outlands of the Klingon settlement they'd been sent to investigate and, if possible, negotiate with.  
Yeah, that went about as well as telling a Vulcan to grow a sense of humour...

The shuttle wasn't far away, in fact, the giant tin can was quite visible only about ten feet across a flat track of rocky ground, but Jim was pretty well cemented where he was. Holding onto the ground as if it were a wild Targ he needed to wrestle into submission, or perhaps-...

"_C-can't Bones, plan't won't stop m'ving... make it stop, please..._"

Ah, well... as much as he would love to stand here for several long minutes enjoying the scenario of THE Captain James Tiberius Kirk lying face-down on an alien planet and holding fistfuls of dirt in deathgrips in a futile effort to make it stop rotating so he could get off it... they did have a ship in orbit to get back to.

...and he would be DAMNED if he'd resort to letting them use that technological voodoo, that 'transporter', on him...

You mark his words, that damnable device was going to throw a fuse at somepoint, and some poor schmuck would find their atoms spread across the galaxy with no way to reconstitute them in proper order. Mama McCoy didn't raise a fool, he knew the odds, and he'd be thrice-damned if he was even going to entertain the idea of using that thing and being that one statistic... the victim of that tiny margin of error...

Knowing his luck, it would be him...

.

Jim moaned once more, somewhat pathetically, like a child begging for five more minutes of sleep of the person waking them, and rolled over to look up at his Chief Medical Officer. "Give it to me straight, Bones... am I dying?"

Despite years of extensive medical training and schooling regarding compassionate bedside mannerisms, Doctor Leonard McCoy could not contain the ugly snort of laughter that escaped at the melodrama packed into that one question.

"No, you idiot, you're just drunk and probably a little nauseous from... whatever the hell that stuff was you drank a few kilotons of tonight. Smelled like rancid bear fat, turned my stomach just being in the same room as it, don't know how you even got it down, let alone so damn much of it..." he gave his young friend, captain and charge 'the look'. You know the one, right?

All parents have it down to an art, the expression reading, '_You may be an idiot and have done a Stupid, but I still care and am a little concerned over your actions and the consequences right now_'.

The youngest captain in Starfleet withered under the gaze, "Alright, m'sorry Bones, m'very sorry... never 'gain... jus'... jus' don'tell Spock,right? Prom'se me..." the last words faded into a snore as Jim fell asleep, right there, on the ground, leaving McCoy to find some way to drag his drunken backside all the way to the shuttle; the distance seemingly doubled at the prospect of dragging so much extra weight with him.

"Remind me to schedule as many physical exams and hypos for you as I can without arousing Starfleet Medical's suspicions, when we get back..." he grunted, giving an experimental tug to the Captain's dishevelled, dirty outfit...

Giving up, he huffed out an angry sigh, "They do NOT pay me enough to deal with this..." and reached for his communicator. It chirped once in that odd clicking manner and a static silence fell as he intoned, "McCoy to Enterprise... we have a problem down here..."

Almost immediately a deep voice responded, "Doctor McCoy, this is Spock, please state your emergency..."

If he didn't know better, the physician would have sworn there had been a touch of concern under that ice-cold professional tone he knew so very well...

"WELL," he huffed, flipping Jim on his side ungracefully to make sure the energetic idiot didn't accidentally suffocate by swallowing his tongue or any potential vomit... and knowing what the liquid going in had looked and smelled like, he could only imagine that the young man's body was doing everything in it's power to expel it in short order.

"To make a long, eventful and somewhat disturbing story short, my dear hobgoblin, a certain blond-ish idiot you are so very fond of decided that the best way to establish relations with the locals was to instigate a drinking match with several of the head honchos around these parts. Now, I don't even know what it was he was drinking, but about five minutes ago I'd finally convinced him to let go of the planet and try for the shuttle, when he passed out... could be alcohol poisoning, might just be drunk, I'm not completely sure as my tricorder can't even work out what the hell he was drinking... the stuff BROKE my damn equipment!"

He was gesticulating wildly to punctuate his statements, certain that the movements were conveyed in his tone to the First Officer.

"Understood, and the Captain succeeded in his endeavours to gain favour with the local Klingon population?"

Bones growled in response, "Well, yes... we got a gilded invite back if the dead roast giant-pig-thing-with-six-eyes and this Bat'leth I confiscated from the Captain two miles back, is anything to go by. Next time, we send the Russian kid in, I've seen him drain two bottles of Vodka and still pilot a shuttle through a meteor field..."

There was a contemplative silence for a moment, stretching until Bones thought his connection had cut out in the middle of his ranting... but then, "Understood, I will note this recommendation in the Ship's Logs, Doctor McCoy. What are your co-ordinates?"

Bones backpedalled almost immediately, "Oh no you don't, if I tell you that, you'll beam us aboard using that infernal witchcraft you call a transporter..."

An odd tinge of humour suffused the voice as the First Officer responded, "Actually, Leonard, I was inquiring as to where I may beam down and render assistance to you, and the Captain."

The doctor was a little put out, the budding 'now listen hear you pointy-eared witch doctor' speech dying on the tip of his tongue as he deflated, "Oh..." he cleared his throat, "Well in that case, we're-..."

"Nevermind Doctor, Scotty has triangulated you exact location based off of your individual communicator signals, I will be there in exactly 97 seconds. Mr Sulu, you have the Comm..." and the signal cut out immediately after.

.

To the very second after the transmission had cut off, the tell-tale whir of transporter activity could be seen feet from their current location. Mr Spock materialised in a calm stance, hands clasped behind his back and that familiar expression of patience on his face.

The eyes flickered over Bones, Jim and then behind them to the shuttle, before settling into what the Doctor knew to be a frown... by Spock's standards. Which meant the other's angled eyebrows had furrowed almost minutely, and a dark look gleamed in both the eyes underneath; calculating.

"Doctor... you are mere feet away from the Shuttle, was it not possible to maneuver the Captain to it before he lost consciousness?" It was a logical question, but he shook his head in response before kneeling beside the suddenly-mumbling figure lying beside him. For a minute, it seemed as if Jim had returned to awareness, eyes flashing open and looking about before shutting just as abruptly and letting his entire body curl in on itself.

Hands immediately snapped to his waist to grab out his tricorder, before remembering that it was still sitting back in that odd little bar, broken and probably still smoking from earlier attempt to identify whatever the Captain had drunk. In the interim, the Vulcan First Officer had moved closer, holding forth something that the Chief Medical Officer took automatically before realising the familiar object was another medical tricorder.

Bones hummed as he quickly ran the medical tricorder over the Captain, hoping that perhaps he could get a vague look at the physiological effects of whatever it was without the fumes exuding from the body below triggering a malfunction. Jim seemed to be quite drunk according to the scan, but nothing in the readings seemed abnormal or an indicator that he was about to grow a second head...

.

"Your prognosis, Doctor?" intoned Mr Spock, making the Doctor flinch in surprise, as he'd completely forgot the other was there for the moment, so sharp had his focus been on jim's welfare. He cleared his throat, noting that Spock seemed to be pretending his practical full-body convulsion had not happened a second ago, and stated, "He'll live, as far as I can tell... but I'm going to lock his ass up in Sickbay for the next 48-72 hours just to be sure... and also as minor payback for having to hear his rendition of the famous Klingon Opera '_Smash the Skulls for Love, We Die at Dawn'_ at least **_six times_** on the way back to here. He's a good captain, but tone-deaf, I tell you!"

The Vulcan nodded at this assessment, "I second this particular observation, Doctor, often Jim sings in the shower before a shift and often I have noticed the tone to be off-key, and many lyrics... improvised. He is many things, some extraordinary, but all known records and audio-visual assessments from first-hand observation state that his talents do not include those of vocal pursuits..."

Bones turned his face away from the First Officer to smirk, remembering how the Karaoke machine that Kirk had smuggled aboard for Christmas last year had mysteriously gone missing after several crew members' drunken renditions of songs left the rest of the crew reaching for earmuffs, and none moreso than their intrepid captain...

.

Jim made a noise, snaked out a hand and wrapped it around Bones' ankle before snuggling close to the kneeling man as if he were a stuffed toy; murmuring contentedly. The medical professional sent a pointed glare to his First Officer, "Not. A. WORD. Got it?" he growled, trying to disentangle himself from a surprisingly strong grip.

And suddenly, Mr Spock was there, carefully prying the slumbering octopus of a man off of him with the above-human strength possessed by all Vulcans, and apparently, half-Vulcans. He sighed in relief as the last finger was carefully pulled from about his ankle, "Kid's got a real snuggling problem going there... I don't envy you that, Pointy-ears." he tossed casually.

Spock appeared to weigh up the statement in his mind as his hands fought to straighten out the half-conscious human below him, trying to get the Captain... his T'hy'la, into a position from which he could be easily picked up and carried the necessary few feet to the shuttle.

"You are correct, Leonard, Jim does possess many unusual and tactile traits such as the need to be physically close to those he cares for, when in close proximity... I believe this is born from past experiences he has shared with the both of us in deep confidence; and I will not now, nor ever, deny him the need to... 'snuggle' as you insist upon referring to it as. I... am not exactly unamenable to this specific trait from a personal perspective; I find it... I believe you would say that I found it 'endearing', if I were fully human."

.

Bones clasped a hand dramatically to his chest and gave a shit-eating grin, "Why Mr Spock, for a second there I almost believed you were showing an emotion! How dare you scare me like that..." he jibed, knowing the other knew it was not intended maliciously. Their little game of words and taunts still ongoing to this day...

"Why then, Doctor, I believe you understand the sensation of incredulity I experienced upon witnessing your... inebriated performance on Netari 7. Previously, I had not known your physique was so flexible, nor that you possessed the strength to support yourself upon a pole of that height for such an extended period of time. Should you ever choose to pursue such a career, my calculations indicate your chance of success to be close to 89.7% over a four year period."

The Vulcan did not look up at him, but the tone indicated a slight tinge of triumph as he finally pinned the Captain's questing limbs down, rearranging the long length of human before sliding arms under the crook of knees, and under the shoulders.

As Spock stood up seemingly effortlessly with Jim slung in his arms, bridal style, Bones stood in a dazed stillness with flushed cheeks. Indeed he did remember Netari 7, he also remembered that it wouldn't have happened if Jim hadn't insisted the all mix the local fare with Lieutenant Chekov's secret stash of alcoholic beverages from his homeland.

Audibly, he sighed regretfully, reaching up to rub his eyes tiredly... he never _did_ find his pants after that night...

.

Spock was staring at him, completely ignoring all the Captain's semi-aware attempts to gain the Vulcan's attention by wiggling, snuggling, giggling and mumbling. At least twice Jim attempted a Vulcan kiss, but ended up silently staring in confusion at his own fingers, either because they refused to do what he wanted them to, or because he no longer remembered what they were...

"Well, come on, we've dawdled about down here long enough... let's go home Mr Spock!" he said, snapping out of the surprised rigidity and striding towards the shuttle with purpose. Footsteps followed after a pause, and a wet smacking noise that told him Jim had given up on Vulcan kisses and was probably sloppily attempting to kiss the stoic First Officer the human way...

It was... the mental image almost made him fall into a fit of giggles...

Then Bones flinched and speedily snatched out the new medical tricorder, marvelling that he didn't even remember putting it away and yet apparently unconsciously did so from habit, and ran it over himself. For a breath, it whirred, then grimaced as the results flashed on-screen...

.

"Are you well Doctor McCoy?" Spock asked from slightly behind him, and he turned to face the other Starfleet officer with an expression of complete 'doneness' on his face.

"It seems you don't even need to drink the stuff to be affected, I only inhaled the fumes -and boy were there a few- and this thing's reading off the damn charts for intoxication... lucky I didn't try to pilot the shuttle then, eh?" he responded, finally acknowledging the growing pounding from first one temple, then the other...

"Oh, fantastic, and me without any analgesic hyposprays lying about..." he muttered in agitation before rolling his eyes and storming into the shuttle. Almost immediately as it came into view, he flopped down into a nearby chair, Spock depositing Jim into the one directly beside him, with all the grace of someone attempting to dislodge a love-struck octopus...

But the deed was managed eventually, much to the Doctor's dismay, for Jim suddenly whirled about and focused upon him. Many, many choice words were flung about the interior of the small shuttle as the Commander took the pilot's seat and began preliminary flight-checks.

Meanwhile, Bones was wrestling the Captain into safety belt-slash-harness that was apparently devised by Old Scratch himself... how in the name of hell did this become so complicated? When you put it on for yourself you simply sat, clicked three different things together and voila, safe!

Try and do it for someone else and-... well, now he understood the premise of all those old sitcoms they'd shown in media studies all those years ago, where one of the main characters would attempt to buckle a child into a safety restraint and end up calling for help, or the fire brigade...

He was half-tempted to call for Starfleet intervention, because the pounding headache had shifted about to right behind his eyes by this point; a sure sign that anything they'd been affected with was wearing off. For him, at least...

.

He felt the shuttle take off, shooting upwards like a rocket without an internal discomfort, breaching the atmosphere in under a minute. The Enterprise was easily visible, he heard Spock hailing to let them know of their approach, and to open Docking Bay 6 for the Perseus' eventual return.

Jim had begun fidgeting again, and given that they'd already taken off the point of the safety harness was now useless -Starfleet regulations be damned, he needed a hypospray and a holiday before he began to listen to anyone official- he gave up. And was immediately clung to like a much-loved stuffed toy...

.

For the love of-...

"Did you require some assistance, Doctor McCoy?"

Okay, that... THAT was humour, Vulcan or not, he knew when someone was being a sassy little mister towards him, and this particular pointy-eared hobgoblin had just made a quip. What next? Cats and Dogs literally raining from the sky?

"Why no, Spock, I thought I'd just sit here and play cuddle-monkey until his snuggling powers magically cure the apparent infestation of tiny creatures with jack-hammers living in my skull... no rush..." he glared pointedly, but dropped it far too quickly for his liking. He was too tired for this nonsense... why couldn't Uhura or Sulu end up on Kirk-sitting duty for once?

The universe had it in for him, he just knew it.

.

That was the moment Jim decided to scoot across the chairs, slide both arms about him in some sort of childish death-hug, drop his head in Bones' neck, and whisper something about 'Mummy making too much noise, sleepy time...'

With an exaggerated eyeroll, Leonard McCoy stood up, yanked his Captain from about him, half dropped, half-shoved him into Spock's arms and firmly stated, "He's _your_ husband, _you_ deal with him, I'm going to lie down in back..." and strode to the rear-compartment with nary a look back.

.

Though, if he had... he would have seen the amused expression of the First Officer as the Captain wiggled and whined, breathily muttering parts of different songs disjointedly before falling silent once more.

"Ah Jim, what am I to do with you?" Spock stated, "You have driven the Doctor to distraction, and I highly doubt you could walk in a straight line in your current condition..."

"_S'rry...T'hee... T'hylu-... Th-... Sp'ck..._" the other mumbled, allowing Spock to slide him into a chair and buckle him in, mainly to keep him within the chair until the shuttle could dock and a medical team could assess the damage done by the alien alcohol.

"Do not apologise, T'hy'la, it is who you are. From the moment we met, I knew you, and understood that for some strange reason you seek out the reckless, unique and often dangerous course of action wherever possible... it is a quality I admire, and feel theoretical concern over perpetually." he responded honestly, eyes flickering back to the console and making certain that the auto-pilot was still engaged as he made his way to the back of the shuttle.

.

Bones had stretched out on one of the padded benches in back, for excess passengers, and despite the fact it was incredibly narrow and slightly uncomfortable... the exhausted Doctor fell asleep almost immediately.

He didn't stir when he heard the commotion from the front. Nor did he move or even acknowledge the presence of the tall, Vulcan officer who slipped into the rear compartment, hypospray in hand.

.

Spock had searched for the well-stashed first-aid equipment within the tiny shuttle and found what he had been avidly attempting to locate, slipping into the rear end of the shuttle without preamble. His heightened hearing having picked out the slow, soft breaths and calm beating of the human's heart from the front compartment; knew the Doctor was asleep.

It was better this way, saving time, effort and air which would have been wasted fighting when the Doctor automatically refused assistance on account of, not so much pride, but instead a need to be independant and maintain invincible. He was the rock of their trio, and this role was ingrained in his personality... to show weakness was not something he enjoyed or over-indulged in.

Spock knew this. Jim knew this. Neither of them ever pushed too hard, but usually surreptitiously found a way about it...

He knelt by the Doctor's head, reaching out to slowly maneuver the man into a more favourable position for hypospray application, and paused as the other automatically tensed. Certainly, being attacked in their sleep, or while unconscious, had happened more times than any aboard the Enterprise were comfortable with... it was to be expected.

Before the Doctor could wake, Spock spoke in a low tone, "Leonard, I am attempting to assist you, please do not fight me as I administer this hypospray..."

The First Officer waited until the body in his grasp had actively relaxed unconsciously in response to his words, before continuing. Bones failed to even flinch when the hypospray hissed, injecting the analgesic directly into his neck to take effect almost immediately.

Spock rose, aiming his stride towards the front compartment so as to pilot the shuttle into the docking bay; as would be necessitated in the next few minutes. Though the Vulcan paused in the doorway sealing both sections from one another, and merely looked back in contemplation for several long seconds...

Unsure why he did so, Spock half-turned back into the room and spoke audibly enough for human ears, but not so loud as to rouse his sleeping crewmate and close friend.

"Doctor... _Bones_... I may never state this to your conscious person, as it would negate the curiously enjoyable verbal sparring we occasionally enjoy, but you are one of the few humans that I admire. Of all the humans I have met and known in the entirety of my life within Starfleet, you Doctor, and my T'hy'la Jim, have been exemplary examples for me in understanding that my human half was not something to be ashamed of, as I had been taught my entire life by those of Vulcan.

You have shaped me in ways you cannot know, and will never understand... thank you, my friend."

Having imparted what he wished to say, Spock executed a precision-turn and strode from the rear-compartment.

.

Even to this day, Bones will never quite understand how he came to wake up as the Perseus docked aboard the Enterprise, feeling in greater physiological health and spirits than before he had fallen asleep.

The feeling that something had happened had been buried under concern for Jim as a Medical Team rushed aboard to whisk the Captain to Sickbay for analysis. Thankfully the drink passed from his system harmlessly days later, but the Captain's hangover had been terrifying, and had become legendary... a benchmark to never be surpassed, as cadets whispered to each other at the Academy.

Jim didn't drink for a year and a half after that...

.

But still, the feeling persisted. Bones, himself, felt as if something had been done in that short interim, that something important had changed; though he could not explain it.

.

Nor did he ever understand why, from that day on, his feelings towards the half-Vulcan First Officer changed to something closer... an odd collision of friendship and parental affection.

It was simply too odd for him to contemplate for too long a period without at least a whiskey or two to hand... so the Doctor never questioned it, and only occasionally heard what sounded like the echoes of a confession in his dreams... but he always awoke feeling warm, with a smile on his face.

~)0(~

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**~*The End*~**

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If you liked it, or even hated it, let me know...

I spent an hour or two fiddling with this, but did not Beta it, so if you find a small issue, grammatical or spelling error... please PM me, so I can fix it!

~*SailorSilvanesti/Phoneix Fire*~


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